Alabaster Roses

[.6] "a dream is a wish the heart makes"

                                                                          [.6]

                                                 "a dream is a wish the heart makes"                                                             

THE GENTLE ROCKING of the train had been soothing. The chug of it pulling away from each station and the soft spoken voices of fellow passengers had relaxed him further into this deep euphoria. Even the regular announcements of the train driver gave him a reassuring sense of routine - at first. Now, as the train pulled into Euston Square, things were starting to change.   

Ambrose was sat on the very last seat in the row of chairs, his hot face pressed against the cold dividing glass. His breath had clouded the glass and he'd had quite a nice time drawing pictures in the instant condensation he created, but he'd grown bored before long and soon focused on his surroundings. The carriage was getting smaller, he was sure. Hadn't the man with the umbrella been standing half a carriage away? Now it seemed this man was looming over him with accusing eyes. Ambrose pulled his sleeves right down to his knuckles and wrapped the jacket concealing the drugs tighter around his body. Does he know what I did? Ambrose blinked and suddenly the man was back in his original position, glancing down at the watch clasped too tightly around his blotchy wrists.   

He took a few calming breaths. He needed to relax before he drew attention to himself. Ambrose looked at the woman opposite him, she'd been on her phone for the entire journey - the clinking of her green painted nails on the screen had been a constant sound since he sat down - but now she was making direct eye contact. Little eyes watching him through thick rimmed glasses. Don't look at her, he told himself, deciding to watch the windows behind her. Darkness zoomed past the windows at an alarming rate, the occasional flash shocking his sight into seeing bright lights dance across the faces of those around him. It was like someone had let off a fire cracker in his head, the sporadic emanation made the drugs coursing through his veins burn hotter and somehow the once cooling glass was now like glue, sticking his clammy skin to its dirty surface.   

"This station is Farringdon. This is a Metropolitan line train to-"Ambrose jumped in his seat, the voice booming over head was unexpected. It was too loud and the female voice sounded as though it had been distorted through a machine. Who has a voice like that? he wondered, now tapping his hands on his knees. More people got on the train- the carriage seemed to shrink once more. "This train is now departing. Please mind the doors." Beeping rang out and Ambrose saw the doors begin to close. Time slowed down, or was it sped up? He wasn't sure, but the sliding doors looked like giant locks about to click in place and leave him trapped inside this place forever. Panicking he stood and made a dash for the exit, but it was too late and before he'd even made two steps the train jolted into motion like a bullet fired from a gun. Ambrose fell back, crashing into someone and hitting the floor with a thud.   

Amongst the tutting and groaning he noticed that the woman with the green nails was looking down at him, though there was concern in her eyes she made no move to help him up. Ambrose struggled to his feet as the train moved on. He fell back into his seat, head lolling a little, and closed his eyes. It felt like he'd been on this train for hours or minutes or days or seconds. He didn’t know, but he certainly didn't feel as good as he had done earlier and he wanted out - the high was starting to wear off and he wondered if two bags had been enough.    

"Hurry up," he began to mutter, "hurry up, hurry up." His eyes found the coloured map of the different tube lines. He liked how the colours seemed to wiggle and move like spray painted snakes, each twisting around the other, leaving pretty inky patterns. The woman with the nails was watching him again, her manicured eyebrows sinking into a frown. "What?!" he shouted, unable to take her stares any longer. "What do you want?"